


Arc Two: Storm on the Horizon

by Dullard



Series: Warrior Cats: Steorra [2]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29502651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dullard/pseuds/Dullard
Summary: Part two of the Steorra series, a story about a Clan and its Territory set in California. After a life consisting of lazy mornings and easy prey, a warrior is sent with a team of spies to investigate rumors that a deputy is planning something drastic to upheave the peaceful status quo the Clan has become used to for generations beyond counting. Having to sneak around his own family to avoid detection, the warrior and his "friends", if you can call them that, are determined to uncover the truth and motivations of this deputy, and what her actions could result in for the rest of her community.
Series: Warrior Cats: Steorra [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885975
Kudos: 6





	1. Allegiances

**Relevant Allegiances**

(Cats that show up in this arc, minor character section subject to future edits)

**Main Cast:**

Mistface - Pale blue-grey tom with green eyes and long fur. Scattered warrior.

Greyleaf - Grey tabby tom with green eyes and long fur. Scattered healer.

Nettlecloud - Pale blue-grey molly with green eyes and long fur. Scattered warrior.

Beetlefoot - Dark brown tom with yellow eyes. Fleet messenger, from Brae.

Littlepaw - Tiny fawn calico molly with blue eyes. Hillock apprentice.

Laurelclaw - Large white tom with yellow eyes and a torn ear. Plage warrior.

Flyfang - Dark grey ticked tabby molly with green eyes. Marish warrior.

Darkpelt - Lean black tabby molly with blind yellow eyes. Versant warrior.

Redheart - Tall red ticked tabby molly with orange eyes. Clast deputy.

**Leaders:**

Fernstar - Tiny ginger tabby molly with green eyes. Clast leader.

Lightningstar - Golden tabby cat with orange eyes. Hillock leader.

Pebblestar - Tall grey tom with yellow-green eyes. Scattered leader.

Sealstar - Large dark brown tom with yellow eyes. Plage leader.

Aphidstar - Small white tom with golden tabby patches and blue eyes. Marish leader.

Cedarstar - Tortoiseshell molly with orange eyes. Brae leader.

Thornstar - Brown tabby tom with green eyes. Versant leader.

Phoebestar - Black molly with green eyes. Fleet leader.

**Minor Characters:**

Snowshine - Pretty little white molly with yellow eyes. Clast seer. 

Starkfeather - Silver tom with vibrant green eyes. Scattered seer.

Olivepaw - Black molly with bright yellow eyes. Scattered apprentice.

Mintpaw - White molly with brown eyes. Scattered apprentice.

Brightblaze - Red-and-white tom with blue eyes. Scattered warrior.

Shreddednose - Grey molly with scarring on the bridge of her nose and copper eyes. Patroller, from Clast.

Thrashercloud - Grey-brown tabby tom with yellow-green eyes. Patroller, from Brae. 

Brushdust - Golden tabby tom with green eyes. Scattered patroller. 

Frostclaw - White molly with green eyes. Patroller, from Marish.

Grapejump - Black-and-white molly with blue eyes. Scattered patroller.

Striderfoot - Lanky black molly. Scattered messenger. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Listen to that. You can hear the chaos all the way from here.”

Mistface twitched his nose as a noncommittal response. He was walking by the side of a nearly-black tabby molly named Darkpelt through the burgeoning fresh blades of grass growing in for the season. Behind him, a pair of toms were trying to occupy themselves with taking in the sights of the vast valley they lived in, for lack of anything else to do. The one directly behind Mistface was the smallest of their troop – a sleek and skinny dark brown tom with a permanent frown on his face. He was very much dwarfed by the massive white tom beside him, who was making an effort to walk slowly so that he didn’t overtake the rest of the group.

Mistface himself, a handsome blue-grey tom with long fur, swiveled his ears, absentmindedly taking in the distant sounds of yowls and cheers. They were heading for the Clast settlement, and from here he could see the large stone houses that made up oversized dens for the family to live in. This was, by far, the most aggressive part of the Territory to be in; Mistface could already envision cats charging up to him once he arrived and demanding to tussle.

As if he’d heard Mistface’s thoughts, the white tom, Laurelclaw, nervously said, “You don’t think we’ll have to do any fighting, do you?”

Beetlefoot, the little tom, snorted. “That’s all Clast cares about. We likely have to in order to fit in.”

Darkpelt twisted her head and fixed Laurelclaw with her wide-eyed blind stare and a grin. “You’ll have quite a few fans in there before long, I think. They love a big guy.”

Laurelclaw hummed anxiously. “I know I’m supposed to be the muscle, but…”

“Ain’t a problem yet,” Mistface said. He was sharply reminded that his drawl was the strongest of the accents in the group as he spoke. “Darkpelt, you got a game plan? I’m assumin’ you’ve done this before.”

“Obviously!” Darkpelt winked at him and, for the second time since meeting her, he wondered how she knew to do that. “How long do you think I’ve been in spy work for?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Mistface said, with a disdainful sort of feigned politeness. “How long?”

“Nine months of age,” Darkpelt said smugly. Mistface disliked her. “I mean, to be fair, it’s usually simpleton’s work, but this time I’m collaborating with newbies, so I made sure to have a ‘game plan’, as you say. I’m sure this’ll be easy enough, but still-”

“You’re free to share it at any time after you’re done boasting,” Beetlefoot said dryly.

Darkpelt laughed and curled her tail. “Fine, fine. Mistface, Fernstar pretty much laid out what you’re do to – you’re our spokesperson. Anyone asks questions about us, especially when we first arrive, and you’ll be answering them.”

“Got my answers ready for me?” Mistface asked.

“I do, actually.” Darkpelt nodded. Her tone shifted to be more business-like than jolly. “The three main points: one, you’re here for your brother and nothing else. Two, you don’t know anything about the deputy’s supposed plan to leave. Three, we all met up at the Gathering and decided that our interests aligned and we should go to Clast together.” Her tail uncurled and waved in the air. “Aside from that, you’re smart, so I hear. You can come up with stuff pretty quick. All minor details about the rest of us can be half-truths or non-answers.”

Mistface made a noise of acknowledgement.

“As for the rest of us-“ Darkpelt looked back at Laurelclaw and Beetlefoot. “Laurelclaw, you’re here because you’re tired of your life with the Plage. Beetlefoot, you’re doubled up. You’re done with constantly working for the leaders, _and_ you have friends in Mistface and his mother. They sort of inspired you to come along with and check out a new style of living.”

Beetlefoot wrinkled his nose as soon as the word ‘friend’ was said, but he waited until Darkpelt finished talking to respond. “And none of us know anything about Redheart wanting to take cats out of the Territory?”

_“You_ might have heard about it,” Darkpelt replied, “but you don’t believe the rumors. That’s not to say you aren’t curious, though. Laurelclaw and Mistface don’t know anything. You haven’t said a word to them yet, mostly because the idea sounds too silly to be real.”

In a way, Mistface mused, it was. The Clan, made up of multiple large families and hundreds of individuals, lived in a massive collection of areas all forming the Territory. Mountains, hills, the valley, marshes, and even a trail leading to the coastline provided comfortable and beautiful homes for these cats. Prey was abundant, especially because of the land being littered with certain ones that had a white mark on their heads that proved they had been given to the living by StarClan. Even besides that, there were almost no predators to bother them, definitely no neighboring groups large enough to pose even a slight challenge, and so few struggles that the biggest hurdle to one’s happiness was unseasonably cold weather.

What in the name of the stars, then, would cause a cat like Redheart, said by Fernstar herself to be sensible and level-headed, to consider leaving at all? Something petty, perhaps, like a power struggle, or maybe she wasn’t as level-headed as she was said to be and thought life would really be better in the outside world. Mistface couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

“Remember,” Darkpelt continued, bringing Mistface back to the present, “your job – all of you – is to be inconspicuous. Redheart isn’t stupid, and neither is Greyleaf. They’ll know something’s up if you just sit around listening in to conversations or asking strange questions all day.”

That was the other thing. Mistface’s brother, Greyleaf, had mysteriously abandoned his post as the official healer for the leaders and their high deputies – those that served directly beneath the collective heads of the Clan – to join Redheart in the Clast under the pretense of going to see his dying mother to the end of her life. Greyleaf was an anxious wreck with no desire to step a toe out of line and draw attention to himself. The fact that he had lied so brazenly about his family, the thing he held in higher regard than anything else, and went to the rowdiest group in the Territory to work with a cat that was calling for negative attention was baffling to everyone that knew him.

“It’s the job of me and Mistface to get the information we need.” Darkpelt’s usual mischievous smile disappeared for a moment as she turned her head to blindly scan all three of the toms with a very serious look. “And even then, Mistface is to keep near his brother and the common folk in the settlement. Let _me_ do the sneaking around and spying, got it?”

“Right.”

“Got it.”

“Yes.”

“Atta boys.” Darkpelt’s smile returned. “Now, let’s keep our mouths shut from here about this. Maybe some awkward small talk, but nothing beyond that. Spokesperson, walk a little ahead of me.”

Another round of affirmatives, and Mistface picked up the pace until his shoulders were past Darkpelt’s nose. There was no small talk, but the air did become a bit awkward anyway. Laurelclaw looked uneasy and Beetlefoot seemed to be focusing on appearing as calm and indifferent as possible. Mistface was sure he looked confident enough as he was.

Gradually, the sounds of fighting and excited spectators came to drown out the bird chirps and gentle breeze of the flatlands. Beetlefoot’s face creased contemptuously, but Laurelclaw and Darkpelt looked at least a little more interested as an explosion of cheers burst from the houses.

Mistface’s eyes drifted and he caught sight of a grey-brown tom lazing about where the cobblestone was cracked and overtaken by the earth. He was small and dully colored enough to almost completely melt into his surroundings, and he only moved to look up at the approaching party.

“Somethin’ fun happenin’ in there?” Mistface asked casually, once he was close enough that he knew he could be heard over the commotion.

“Always is.” The tom was at least polite enough to sit up and greet them as they paused a few feet away. “You here for the party or the rumors?”

Mistface was aware of Darkpelt’s presence, as if she was staring directly at him to will the correct response into his head. He blinked slowly and replied, “I’m just here for my brother, actually. Heard you got a cat named Greyleaf here now.”

“Ah.” The tom gave an amused scoff. “The boy just showed up, yes. He’s been busy.”

There was a screech and the cheers erupted one again.

Mistface offered the tom a friendly smile, swallowing the distaste for crowds brewing in his chest. “He’ll be real busy after whatever move they just pulled, I reckon.”

“We both will.” The tom stood fully. “I’m a resident healer. Vireoberry. Though everyone’s been going to him over me, if you can believe it.”

“I can,” Mistface said. “He’s quite good.”

“So I’ve seen,” Vireoberry said. “If you want to talk to him before Redheart pulls him away again, now’s the time.”

Mistface thanked him and continued walking, the other three close behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laurelclaw beam and wave his tail to Vireoberry as they parted ways.

Two houses had to be passed before they rounded a corner of smooth rock and emerged into a cobblestone clearing, currently crowded with cats. There was just enough room to see a dark grey ticked tabby standing triumphant over a young golden tom. The cats gathered were shouting various things like “Cry uncle, Ryestripe!” and “One more hit!”.

“Is it a good fight?” Darkpelt said in Mistface’s ear.

“Looks like it’s about over,” Mistface said.

The golden tom looked up nervously at the tabby, who grinned down at him, before he flopped fully onto his side and raised a paw. Laughter and jeers rang through the clearing and the crowd backed up unanimously, as did the tabby. The golden tom unsteadily got to his feet and shook his head, which Mistface could now see was bleeding.

Beetlefoot made a noise of disgust. “Savages.”

“Ain’t our place to judge how they spend their time,” Mistface said over his shoulder, flicking his enormously fluffy tail. “Let’s find Greyleaf.”

The crowd began to disperse, with a few cats walking up to the tabby to shower her with compliments (to which she seemed very receptive). Mistface scanned the clearing for his brother, eyes narrowed a little. He watched a cluster of cats suddenly part to allow a tall, elegant red-brown molly through. He recognized the molly as the one that he had seen talking to his brother once at a Coterie gathering for the smaller groups within the Clan. His eyes narrowed further.

The golden tom caught sight of the molly and immediately scrambled to his feet, bowing his head repeatedly and scattering blood on the ground.

“Easy, Ryestripe,” the molly said, and even at a normal volume, her voice seemed to drown out all other sound with its clear, commanding tone. “Just sit down.”

Ryestripe complied, grinning weakly. “Heh, did you see? I nearly got her.”

“I saw.” The molly didn’t quite smile, but her hard face softened a little. “You’ve been doing well for yourself. Don’t overdo it when you were just patched up, though, alright?”

“Don’t bother making him promise,” the tabby said. “He won’t keep it.”

“Neither will you,” Ryestripe shot back.

“I’m not the one who got beat up!”

“Do you have any injuries anyway?”

Mistface perked his ears and turned his head. A grey tabby, just as fluffy as him, was weaving around cats to join the two mollies and Ryestripe. His voice was having a much harder time making itself heard over the rambling around him.

“’Course not, Greyleaf!” The grey molly pressed a front paw to her chest, jokingly offended. “What do you take me for?”

“A moron?” Ryestripe offered.

The grey molly rounded on him, about to pounce, but the red-brown molly quickly stepped between them with a stern look to the victor of the fight. Greyleaf’s eyes flickered skyward for just a moment before he approached Ryestripe and started examining his wounds.

“Now’s our chance,” Darkpelt whispered to Mistface. “Go see him, we’ll be a little behind.”

Mistface straightened up and strolled as innocuously as he could towards his brother.

The red-brown molly saw him first. Before he could say anything, she moved to greet him.

“You’re new,” she said, in that regal-sounding voice. “Welcome to the Clast.”

“A merry afternoon to you,” Mistface said, mostly to be polite.

At his voice, Greyleaf’s head jerked up. He caught sight of Mistface and his eyes widened.

“Thought you might be here, brother.” Mistface offered a winning smile to the molly, then a more genuine one to Greyleaf. “Didn’t have the decency to sent Beetlefoot to tell us?”

“I w- well-“ Greyleaf shuffled his feet, looking bewildered and anxious. “I was going to, things just got busy…”

“I sent for him to help us here,” the red-brown molly said. “I apologize for that. I should have had the decency to alert you and your mother.”

“Mm.” Mistface regarded her now with a slightly tilted head. “I assume you’re the one in charge?”

The molly nodded once. “My name is Redheart. I’m the deputy.”

“Your brother has all sorts of connections, doesn’t he?” Darkpelt said suddenly. Mistface looked back to see her strutting up with Laurelclaw and Beetlefoot hurrying behind her. “Bit of a downgrade from working for the leaders, though.”

Greyface blinked. “Beetlefoot?”

Beetlefoot jerked his head in acknowledgement.

“Nice to see you again,” Laurelclaw said in a very clear attempt to sound friendly that came off as awkward. “I don’t know if you remember me, we met at that Coterie-“

“Oh!” Greyleaf coughed, visibly wracking his brain for the memory. “Right, uh, Laurel… Laurel…”

“-claw,” Laurelclaw finished.

“Right, sorry.” Greyleaf cleared his throat. His eyes drifted to Darkpelt. “And you are…”

“A bored warrior looking for some fun,” she said, grinning. “Darkpelt.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Redheart said, dipping her head respectfully to these cats of inferior status as if they were high deputies. “Are you all companions?”

“Just for a bit,” Mistface said. “We met at a Gatherin’ and decided to come here together.”

“He wouldn’t shut up about you,” Darkpelt said to Greyleaf, cheekily twitching her whiskers. “I hope you’re as good of a healer as he said you are.”

“He is.” Mistface glanced back at her, eye narrowed, though his tone was light. “Might serve you well if you decide to join the chaos here.”

Darkpelt laughed. “Good luck finding anyone to fight _me_.”

“I’m sure there will be at least one.” Redheart’s eyes crinkled a little – not quite enough for a smile to follow, but enough to give off an easy, comfortable air. “You’re all welcome to stay as long as you like.”

“Redheart!” someone shouted, their voice echoing from inside a house. “Olivepaw’s acting up again!”

“Coming,” Redheart called, and with a final nod to everyone, she walked off. Somehow, she managed to move as quickly as a trot without hurrying.

Greyleaf watched her go, inhaled deeply, and huffed out a breath, his fur smoothing down as he did. He looked back at Mistface. “What about Mama?”

“She’s nearby,” Mistface replied. “Turns out the Vultures’re restin’ up with one of theirs havin’ kits, so they were happy to take her in and keep her away from this whole…”

“Yeah.” Greyleaf gave a blatantly fake smile. “Well, I’ll have to visit her. You’ll show me where to go?”

“We can go tomorrow.” Mistface’s smile was still real. “Once we’re settled.”

“Your mother’s a sweetheart,” Darkpelt said. “She came with us.”

“We took our time,” Mistface said, before Greyleaf could protest forcing their mother to travel. “She’s doin’ well. Happy to rest, of course, but…”

“Right,” Greyleaf murmured, seemingly to himself. “Right.” His voice raised again. “Well, uh, you guys are free to wander around and check out the place. Uh, Darkpelt, do you need assistance, or-?”

“Laurelclaw’s got me,” Darkpelt said cheerily. She turned her head a little towards Laurelclaw - but, Mistface noted, not quite at him like she had before. “Come on, let’s see what they’ve got. Beetlefoot?”

“I’ll walk around myself,” Beetlefoot said shortly.

“Alright!” Darkpelt tapped Laurelclaw’s chest with her tail. He jumped and hurried to walk by her side, his own tail just touching hers as he pretended to need to give her directions. Beetlefoot nodded again to Greyleaf and started off the opposite way.

Greyleaf cleared his throat, “Well, I, uh, I better get to work on Ryestripe here- Uh, do you just want to hang out while I do?”

Mistface stepped close enough to gently flick his brother’s nose with his tail. “Wouldn’t want to do anything else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For information on Coterie gatherings, visit https://calitraditionalism.tumblr.com/post/618948219494416384/hey-i-couldnt-remember-if-youd-answered-a.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day came, and with it a patchwork of clouds that pleasantly cooled down the usually warm morning. True to their words, the brothers decided to take the half-hour trek into the center of the Territory's valley to visit their mother. Beetlefoot had silently stood nearby, shifting his feet, until Mistface took the hint and invited him to come with them. Beetlefoot had then made a point of agreeing with a reluctant tone of voice, as if he had much better things to do than see Nettlecloud. Greyleaf and Mistface knew by now to just humor his strange pride and say nothing else.

Beetlefoot seemed to forget that he was supposed to be sullen about getting dragged along almost as soon as they were out of earshot of the rest of the group by the border of the settlement. He perked up, his regimented soldier’s stride relaxing more and more the closer they came to where the Vultures were residing. By the time they could see a small group lazing about together, he was almost walking like a normal cat.

A dark-striped ginger tom was the first to notice them, being the only one actually sitting up. He turned to a plain grey blob behind him and said something.

The blob shifted, and Nettlecloud’s head raised up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Her fur was as droopy as usual, but it reflected what little sunlight poked through the clouds and shined brighter than Mistface was used to seeing on his mother. Her tired eyes lit up and she slowly rose onto her haunches as the three toms reached the group.

“Oh, and you even brought Beetlefoot,” she croaked, purring. “Greyleaf, love, where have you _been?_ ”

“Busy, Mama.” Greyleaf greeted his mother with a gentle headbump. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you what’s been going on – I was asked to help out in Clast. I meant to send a messenger, but…”

“I’m just happy you’re alright,” Nettlecloud said, and drowsily smiled at him. “And you’re so close by! I could even make the walk, if your brother would let me.”

“Or if Rushroot would let you,” the ginger tom said. He looked at Mistface. “We’re glad to have her, by the way. She’s a treat. Minnowpounce already loves her.”

At the name, a dull brown-and-white molly with an incredibly round belly half-rolled their way, resting on her back. She nodded to the trio of newcomers and yawned.

“She’s planning names for my litter,” she said. “I told her we don’t know what they’ll look like yet, but…”

“It’s the closest I’ll get to grandchildren.” Nettlecloud looked back at her and spoke with a pointedly sweet and indulgent voice. “I know my darlings here won’t do it.”

“Mama-!“ Greyleaf and Mistface immediately started.

“I’m teasin’, my loves, only teasin’.” Nettlecloud trilled a soft laugh at their joint flusterment. “Maybe Beetlefoot will, one day.”

Mistface looked at Beetlefoot and immediately forgot his own mood to stifle a guffaw at how large Beetlefoot’s eyes were. His fur on his back stuck straight in the air and he was stiffly standing like he was trying to join it and fly into the sky.

“I don’t- I-“ Beetlefoot said, and spluttered a few more starts to a sentence before giving up and turning away in embarrassment. It was a very amusing look on him.

The ginger tom snorted and shook his head. “You’re something else, Nettlecloud.”

“An old lady like me loses all sense of social niceties after a while.” Nettlecloud chuckled and added to Beetlefoot, “I’m sorry, dear, I was just pokin’ fun at your expense.”

Beetlefoot’s response was a delayed clearing of the throat and a nod like he had just been told he had escaped death.

To save him from having to say anything, Mistface said, “Don’t wear out your welcome too soon. If you’re mockin’ everyone-“

“Stars above, no!” Nettlecloud blinked and playfully frowned at him. Out of the corner of Mistface’s eye, Greyleaf winced. “I’d never point a single cruel word at such lovely cats.”

Mistface rolled his eyes as he affectionately rasped a tongue over her ear. “Whatever you say, Mama.”

The conversation mellowed out a bit, and the longer they talked, the more the other cats stirred from their sleep and watched them. Occasionally, they would offer a comment or laugh at a joke, but otherwise it was mostly Nettlecloud, Mistface and Greyleaf. Beetlefoot, still looking a little embarrassed, gave a response now and then, but he seemed to be just fine sitting within the small circle and listening.

Eventually, Greyleaf cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard by now, there’s been a predator sighting or two around this area. They haven’t sent a patrol to look at it yet, but…”

Beetlefoot and Mistface’s eyes met in a silent understanding. The leaders had claimed that there were other animals in the valley to try and keep cats away from the Clast camp, and therefore away from Redheart. Adding to that, there _was_ a patrol nearby, but they were assigned to linger out of sight yet close enough to the settlement that Beetlefoot could sneak off and give them reports, so that they could relay that message to the leaders.

“I’ll be fine, dear.” Nettlecloud lifted and lowered her paw in a gesture of reassurance. “You just worry about yourself and y’all in Clast. You’ve got a lot of work to do there!”

Greyleaf took a slow breath, his eyes reflecting something Mistface couldn’t name. “You have no idea, Mama. No idea.”

\---

Laurelclaw was a little lost.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to others – he did, very much – but as he looked over the much shorter cats passing through camp, occasionally swiping at each other with a laugh, he couldn’t figure out for the life of him how he was supposed to make any friends without getting into a fight.

He had been sitting against the wall of one of the houses for half the morning, occasionally standing to take a step into the crowd and then shyly sitting back down when someone looked at him. He hadn’t even gotten any prey from the center of the clearing yet in case someone challenged him over food. Not that he was _extremely_ hungry – Plage cats, who traveled back and forth from the sea to the Territory, were used to not eating more than one or two meals in a day, and walking besides.

Still, he thought, it would be nice to be a little smaller so he could walk through without grabbing attention. Cats were always staring at him because of his height. Perhaps if he-

“You there!”

Laurelclaw wanted to hide. He knew that challenging tone of voice.

Nervously, he turned his head to see a black-and-white molly looking up at him with her head cocked. Her eyes were slightly squinted, like she was appraising him.

“You’ve been here since yesterday, and you haven’t said a word,” she declared, as if revealing some massive secret.

Laurelclaw’s awkward laugh stumbled out of him and flopped miserably on the ground. “Right, uh… well, I’ve just been, you know, I…”

“Looking for a good fight?” The molly smirked at him. “Not many who could take you, I bet. Where you from? Plage?”

“Yes, but- see-“

“I’m Peregrinefang,” she said, marching right over his mumbling. “Best fighter in the Clast, or at least the best native fighter. Who are you?”

Not for the first time, he loathed his suffix. “Laurel…claw.”

“Ah!” Peregrinefang’s eyes lit up. “You’re worth scrapping with, then. You know, plenty of cats around here would be _very_ impressed with-“

“Oh! Coming!” Laurelclaw leaped to his feet, grinning apologetically at the molly. “Sorry, friend I came with, must be looking for me, nice to meet you-“

He poured out verbal nonsense over his shoulder as he trotted away as fast as he could without actually running. Peregrinefang watched him go, visibly unimpressed.

Laurelclaw perhaps should have been looking where he was going, because right before he looked ahead of himself, he bumped into something small and heard it squawk in alarm. He halted in his tracks, even jumping back a bit, ready for another deluge of apologies, when he blinked in surprise.

He had knocked over a tiny fawn calico that he recognized.

“Excuse me,” he said quickly. “I wasn’t being careful. Are you okay?”

The apprentice shook her head and sat up. She looked a little miffed, but she smiled up at him. “It’s fine, I was, uh…”

She trailed off and tilted her head. She seemed to recognize him too.

“Sorry, but...” She squinted a little. “Are you Laurelclaw?”

Laurelclaw brightened up. “Yes! Hi! You’re Littlepaw, right? We met at the Coterie.”

Littlepaw actually seemed delighted that he remembered her. Her curly-furred tail waved back and forth. “I didn’t think I’d see you here!”

“Same to you!” Laurelclaw lowered his head quite a bit to touch noses with her in greeting. “I thought you were off training to be a seer in Hillock?”

“I quit!” Littlepaw beamed and puffed out her chest. “Well, I ran away, but I did technically quit. And now I’m here with a friend I met!”

“Oh!” Laurelclaw said, having no idea how to respond to this. He floundered in his mind for a heartbeat or two. “That’s… quite a change!”

“It is!” Littlepaw’s beam turned into a wide grin. “I mean, I’m not really any good at fighting, and I’m still learning how to hunt well, but-“

“Littlepaw, who are you talking to?”

Laurelclaw flinched like he was in trouble – he was always expecting to be – and looked up to see the ticked grey tabby who had won the fight yesterday approaching. She wasn’t exactly scowling, but there was a wariness in her eyes as she looked Laurelclaw up and down.

Littlepaw almost hopped in place to turn to face her. “Flyfang! This is Laurelclaw. I met him before I met you. He’s nice, don’t worry.”

Flyfang tilted her head a little, appraising Laurelclaw. Despite his size, he felt as though he was a tiny kitten under her stare. “Is that so?”

“Hello,” Laurelclaw said meekly.

“Flyfang found me when I ran from Hillock,” Littlepaw explained. “Actually, she was running too, so we decided to come here together.”

“Marish for me,” Flyfang said, and the more she looked at Laurelclaw, the more her posture relaxed. “You’ve heard about them.”

“I know it’s hard to leave,” Laurelclaw affirmed. “But not much else.”

“They’re a secretive bunch.” Flyfang rolled her eyes. “They don’t want whatever stupid things they think are worth hiding getting out, so you’re not allowed to leave. But I have, and now I’m here.”

“Well…” Laurelclaw fumbled for something appropriate to say again. “That sounds like it was brave of you.”

Flyfang’s smile was oddly subdued. “One could say that.” She huffed quietly and gave Laurelclaw a friendly look. “You came in yesterday with Greyleaf’s brother, right? I caught your group splitting up. What’s a blind cat doing here?”

Laurelclaw’s brain stuttered. What was he supposed to say about that that wasn’t technically a lie?

“Flyfang!” Littlepaw jokingly swatted her friend with her tail. “Blind cats can do what they want.”

“I never said they couldn’t,” Flyfang said, half-laughing and batting the tail away. “I was just curious why one would come to Clast, especially now.”

_Right,_ Laurelclaw suddenly remembered, _we’re not supposed to know about the rumors._ “What, uh, what’s wrong with now?”

“You haven’t heard?” Flyfang gave him an incredulous look. “I thought everyone knew. Redheart’s been talking about leaving the Territory.”

Laurelclaw did his best to look surprised. “Really? Why?”

“Something about ‘being true warriors’ or whatever.” Flyfang dismissively waved a paw. “She’s waiting for more cats to arrive before she has a meeting about it, I guess. Frankly, I don’t know what to make of it until she gives more details, but plenty of newcomers are showing up to check it out. The Clast cats are getting annoyed, if you can believe it.”

“They don’t like that not everyone is here to fight,” Littlepaw half-whispered to Laurelclaw, in a stage voice. “So they’re not too fond of me either.”

“Huh.” Laurelclaw pulled his chin a little towards his chest, thinking. “Strange.”

“They like you just fine,” Flyfang said patiently to Littlepaw. She looked back at Laurelclaw again. “So what are you here for, if not for that?”

“Just-“ Laurelclaw rolled a shoulder as casually as he could. “Just looking for a change of scenery. Maybe, um, maybe not the best place for me to come, though. I’m not much one for fighting.”

“Then why are you a -claw?” Flyfang’s head tilted again. Before Laurelclaw had to answer, she shook her head. “No matter, don’t worry. You’ll get along fine with the newcomers. They’re not all fighters either.”

“Well, that’s good.” Laurelclaw sighed in relief. “I was worried everyone would challenge me. I haven’t really even gone over to get prey in case they did-“

Right on cue, his stomach made a low, threatening growl. He winced a little, but Flyfang simply chuckled and walk close enough to nudge him with a paw.

“Come on, then,” she said. “We were about to eat too. We’ll protect you from the crowd.”

“Much appreciated.” Laurelclaw knew he didn’t really need help, but he was very grateful for it. Flyfang took the lead and started for the prey-pile.

“Oh, Laurelclaw!” Littlepaw took up position beside him as they walked, though she had to trot pretty quickly to keep up with his steps. “You should see some of the cats we’ve met here. There was this one…”

Laurelclaw listened as she started on a story about a tortoiseshell with an underbite, feeling easier by the moment now that he had some proper, mission-separate company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference of Littlepaw's story, see chapter 9 of the first arc. For reference of Flyfang's story, see chapter 10.


	4. Chapter 4

Mistface was jolted awake the next morning by a yowl of excitement. His face scrunched unpleasantly in irritation as loud chatter rose up just outside the entrance of the den he was in and battered his ears. He refused to get up. The nests in the houses were made of odd, soft material that smelled very alien, but were unarguably comfortable and kept in warmth beautifully. Even with the stone of the houses chilling their innards, Mistface was quite cozy.

But, alas, the commotion was continuing, and Mistface knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. He scowled, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed.

“Oh.” He heard Laurelclaw shift and get to his feet nearby. “New cats, it looks like. Well, maybe. Beetlefoot, are they new?”

“They are.” Beetlefoot was just as annoyed as Mistface, but significantly more awake. “And clearly very eager to be here.”

“Awful early to be yellin’ like that,” Mistface muttered into his nest.

“This is _hardly_ early, the sun’s out.” Beetlefoot marched past him. “Where’s Greyleaf? He was here last night.”

“Went to talk to Redheart.” That was Darkpelt. She shifted and rose too. “Up with you, Mistface. We need to greet the newcomers.”

Mistface reduced the sigh he wanted to make into a slightly deep exhale and slowly got up. He shook out his thick fur out of habit, even though there weren’t any bits of grass or twigs to get stuck in it overnight. That was a rare luxury.

Beetlefoot was already standing outside, waiting for the other three to join him. Past him, a group of nearly ten cats walked together, some casually looking around at the Clast members or their homes, some chatting with each other.

It was very obvious who had yowled – a red-and-white tom was almost bouncing as he trotted along, blue eyes wide. He looked back at his companions with a wide grin.

“So now we get to meet this rebel deputy!” he said, with all the giddiness of a hyperactive apprentice getting to hunt their biggest prey yet.

A cat behind him had the exhaustion of the mentor of that apprentice, especially after chasing after them all day. “I still think you’re crazy. No one’s stupid enough to just declare themselves a rebel where the leaders can hear them.”

“And no one has.”

Every cat jolted to attention as Redheart emerged from the loosely gathered cats that had come to see the loud newcomers. Head high and eyes a little tired, she came to a stop in front of the patched tom and gave him a slow, single nod.

“You’ve come because of the rumors,” she said.

The tom wilted a bit under her gaze, but he kept up his merry attitude. “We all had to see if they were true. Cats leaving the Territory sounds really exciting.”

“You’re here just in time.” Redheart turned around. “I was about to make a morning speech.”

The Clast natives and the visitors slowly began to follow her towards a strange, small structure. It was like the houses, in that it was made of many rocks evenly spaced and neatly piled together, but it was round and short enough for Redheart to jump on and seat herself. Mistface guessed from how she was perched and the fact that her tail had disappeared that it was like a circular wall of some kind. Above it was rotting, flat wood angled upwards. It was impossible to say what it was originally for, but it served as a position for an authority figure to announce things from well enough.

Once everyone was sitting, or at least standing still, Redheart raised her chin and began.

“I wish to formally welcome everyone who has arrived here,” she said. “I’m very pleased to see that there is still curiosity and courage in this Clan, and that you have come for answers and a possible test of your worth as a warrior. I’ll say it now – yes, it is true that I have intentions of leaving the Territory. Before any of you leave or lose interest in this idea, I want to pose a few thoughts and questions for you to consider to yourself and with your companions.”

She paused and drew a breath. As she did, Mistface’s roaming eye caught his brother sitting in the shade of the structure, blending in with the stone around him. His expression was serious, but it was impossible to deduce what he was thinking. Mistface did not like this new pattern of not knowing his brother’s mind when it mattered most.

Redheart continued. “Our lives are easy here – too easy. Apprentices learn the most basic of skills before being named, never needing to achieve anything more than a swipe and a pounce, and we hardly even think about our elders’ needs when food walk in front of our noses, leaving them to hunt for themselves. Healers – you all know this – healers are treated with disdain for pursuing what we think of as a pointless role with a set of unnecessary skills. We speak scornfully of kittypets and their cushy lifestyles, but look at us. We grow fat and lazy, and we become fatter and lazier by the day. When was the last time any of us had to actually work for what we wanted, even for a brief moment? Kittypets are imprisoned by their masters, those creatures we call ‘humans’, and claim to be free. Meanwhile, we have the audacity to think of ourselves as so much better, but we don’t dare leave our borders of this Territory for fear of what lies beyond our oversized nursery den. Even the Plage and seers traveling to the Lighthouse to speak with our ancestors – even _they_ don’t step off of the well-worn paths they’ve walked for generations.”

The gathered cats exchanged whispers and troubled looks. Mistface narrowed his eyes, but he was careful to say nothing to his neighbors, just watched Redheart as she regarded the cats below her. She spoke with a clear, controlled voice, and it was obvious she had practiced this speech a few times, but he couldn’t detect any obvious lies in her words. Actually, he realized disconcertedly, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

“We are hardly warriors anymore.” Redheart’s voice was strangely grave. “We do not fight for our loved ones, or hunt with any skill, or mark our borders. Our forefathers were warriors. They knew what it was to stand on their own feet and earn what they wanted and needed. Back then, being part of a Clan meant something. What does it mean now? What truly separates us from kittypets and well-fed loners, on the most basic of levels?”

She was met with silence this time. An uneasy air shifted through the crowd.

It was hard to tell if she was satisfied with this. She simply concluded, “I want you all to think about that. Speak to each other. Start a discussion with your neighbors. Question what you think you know. And when the time comes, I hope that I will find you ready to come with me – ready to really be a warrior.”

With that, she stood up, moved around the wall’s edge, and jumped down smoothly where Greyleaf was sitting. He got to his feet and followed her closely as she parted the cats in her way.

Discussion did indeed start after that speech. It almost erupted, in fact; voices rang through the clearing as soon as she left her podium and cats quickly faced each other with shocked expressions, eager to dissect what they had just heard.

“I didn’t think it could’ve possibly been true,” a cat near Mistface remarked, almost in awe. “She’s got some stones to even _suggest_ that!”

“I never really gave much thought to any of this,” his neighbor replied, sounding just as amazed. “She might have a point. An insane point, you know, but it is a point.”

Mistface restrained from making a face and looked to his right. Darkpelt was close by, looking deep in thought. He made his way over to her, thankful that she had settled a little ways apart from the bulk of the audience.

“So we know for sure what she’s doin’,” he murmured, standing next to her and watching where his brother had gone.

Darkpelt twitched her jaw forward and nodded. “Real interesting idea, isn’t it?”

Mistface realized quickly that she was pretending to be considering the option to leave for the sake of the cats around her. He shifted his face to mimic her contemplation. “Indeed. Dunno if I’d take that kinda life over one in here.”

Darkpelt hummed and stood up. “It’d be fun to see how we do, at least.”

Before Mistface could respond, she slightly leaned into him. From where she was, her mouth was right next to his ear without her having to turn her head.

“Look busy,” she whispered. “I’m going to take a walk.”

Mistface wasn’t sure what that was code for, but he nodded and said aloud, “I’ll see what Beetlefoot thinks.”

The two split up. Darkpelt walked away until she was a whisker-length from the nearest house and slunk off around its corner. She did not appear to be noticed by anyone. Mistface melted back into the now moving crowd, looking for his other two teammates.

\---

Contrary to popular belief, being a blind spy was incredibly useful.

Darkpelt heard the mass of noise behind her quickly fade as she walked along the house. When she felt air at her side, she knew she had passed the stone structure. She could smell that she was still in the camp, and, more importantly, that Redheart had been nearby.

It was quite easy to be stealthy, even out in the open. Cats with sight never seemed to notice what was in front of them. Blindness was also an excellent excuse for when someone did catch her – she could just pretend that she was lost and looking for assistance. They always bought it. It was hilarious.

Now, however, there were no cats around her. From yesterday’s exploration, she gathered that the settlement’s community only spread out towards noon, when the prey-pile ran low and it was time to hunt or find something else to do (which was, true to the stereotype, usually fighting). She had a bit of time before she needed to get back to her novice crew and pretend all was well.

Nose raised, she moved quickly, turning immediately when the scent of the deputy went left or right. She heard soft footsteps and someone settle into a nest, and she stopped just before she bumped into a house. The door was to her left, so she carefully scooted back a little to the right and tucked herself against the wall, ears swiveling to catch the soft conversation inside.

“I mean, I think it went well.” That was Greyleaf. It was a marvel how very unlike he was to his brother, right down to his voice. Mistface had a low, smooth drawl that sounded almost too bored to even be coming out of his mouth; Greyleaf’s voice trembled and sounded significantly younger, like it was scared to make itself heard. “I heard them all when we left. They sound excited and surprised.”

“I hope so.” Redheart was deeper and even as low as it was now, it commanded attention. “I’m worried I scared some cats off.”

“We knew that was a risk.” Greyleaf’s tail swished across the floor. “It’s just the first step. Hopefully, if they do leave, they can tell other cats who might be interested, and we can get more out quicker.”

“It’s going to be a long process no matter what,” Redheart said. “And Snowshine will be eager to cut us off as soon as possible. We have to be careful, especially around her.”

“Yeah…” Greyleaf was still for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, “My mother will be coming with us, right?”

“Of course.” Redheart’s voice turned almost gentle. “Even if we have to carry her out, kicking and screaming, on our backs.”

Greyleaf sighed a short laugh, and the two fell silent. Darkpelt waited a minute to see if they would talk again. When they didn’t, she walked off, careful to make her steps completely silent. Luckily, there were no leaves or grass to stir up noise, so she padded along on the stone back to the noisy clearing.

Darkpelt was happy to not have to measure her distance from the crowd to circle around it and find the team. Laurelclaw was close enough to be heard when he said, “Oh, there she is.”

“Save some prey for me?” she asked casually, heading towards the voice.

“Yeah, actually.” Mistface was laying down, from the position of his voice. “Laurelclaw insisted on gettin’ you a bird.”

“They’re really tasty around here!” Laurelclaw said, like this was something to defend himself over. “They’re not as good on the coast. Very, um… what’s the word… salty.”

“Saltiness is disgusting.” Beetlefoot was the furthest away, but he was definitely close enough to overhear a quiet conversation. “I don’t know how you tolerate it.”

“Happens when you grow up flopping around in the ocean,” Darkpelt replied breezily. She sniffed out the bird and pulled it close to her. “Thanks, big guy. I do like the birds in this part of the valley.”

Laurelclaw somehow emanated delight enough that she could feel it from here. “Happy to help.”

“Find out anything?” Mistface muttered. He was across from Darkpelt.

Darkpelt sat down closer, and she felt the other two toms join her. In a low voice, she said, “Snowshine is a cat of interest. From what Redheart said, she’s going to be heavily opposed to whatever the extent of their plan is. Mistface, I think you can find her and talk to her. I need to keep on the downlow.”

“If I must,” said Mistface, not sounding nearly as badgered about it as he was probably trying to. “What else?”

“This plan is long-term,” Darkpelt went on. A cat walked past, and she waited for them to be gone before continuing. “They sound like they want to get as many cats out as possible. StarClan knows why. I’m suspecting they might make return trips to get more members of their little group.”

“That’s not good,” Laurelclaw whispered. “Should we send a message to the leaders?”

“Not quite yet.” Darkpelt could smell Beetlefoot near her and looked in his direction. “I want us to get some information out of this Snowshine first. You, boyo, are going to watch the perimeter and see when it’s least occupied. That’ll be your prime time to speak with the patrol.”

Beetlefoot, surprisingly, simply harrumphed an affirmative. Something meaty made a peeling sound; she figured he was eating his prey.

“What do you want me to do?” Laurelclaw had a tone like he was anxious about not being helpful.

“Keep me within your eyesight,” Darkpelt said. “I’m a hapless blind molly and I’ll probably bump into lots of cats. Might start a fight on accident, yadda yadda, you know how it goes. You need to watch me and help me out when I get particularly lost and clumsy.” She turned to him and winked. “A big cat around these parts is a good meat shield.”

“I can do that.” It was funny how earnestly upbeat he was about being assigned to such a useless task. “Maybe that’ll keep me from having to fight anyone!”

“You _will_ have to tussle at some point, Laurelclaw,” Mistface said. “We’ll be gettin’ questions if you don’t.”

Laurelclaw sighed with such melancholy that Darkpelt laughed out loud, to which he responded with a sheepish chuckle. With that, everyone returned to their prey. Nothing more was said for the rest of the meal.


	5. Chapter 5

Mistface would be lying if he said he wasn’t entirely disgusted with his task.

He could see Snowshine from here – she was a pretty white molly with yellow eyes, and she was currently pulling a squirrel from the oversized prey pile. She looked a little anxious… perhaps ‘stressed’, rather, was the right word. Her fur was fluffy, and Mistface could guess that it was normally very well groomed and smoothed down. Right now, it looked like she had slept on it wrong, and then kept turning over in her sleep to make all of it stick out at odd angles.

“Prime for flattery and a kind conversation,” Darkpelt had said to him. “So pour on the charm and pretend you give a hoot about her problems.”

Mistface didn’t like other cats at the best of times. Actively having to seek one out and act interested in them was like finding a stinking, rotting piece of meat in the grass and being told to eat it with a genuine smile.

Nevertheless, he had a mission (why had he agreed to this again?), so he gently shook out his fur, let it settle, and sauntered forward for the prey-pile.

Snowshine glanced up as he approached and blinked in surprise. He smiled pleasantly at her and sniffed a mouse.

“They make prey so much better ‘round these parts,” he said in his news-and-weather voice. “Marshes must take the taste right out of whatever StarClan sends down.”

Snowshine relaxed and some of her fur flattened, though it was still awkwardly angled. “I haven’t really been anywhere but here. You’re from the south? Scattered, I'm guessing?”

“That I am.” Mistface tilted his head and crinkled his eyes in fake amusement. “Accent give it away?”

She laughed a little. “Just a bit.” She looked him over with roaming eyes. Mistface tried not to get annoyed. “I don’t think I heard your name when you came in. You were with that blind molly, right?”

“Mm.” He tilted his head a little to the left with a winning smile. “I’m Mistface.”

“Oh!” Snowshine perked up even more. “Then you’re Greyleaf’s brother! He’s always talking about you and your mother.”

“Oh, dear.” Mistface made a face of pretend worry. “Must not have a real good impression of me, then.”

“Actually, he has nothing but nice things to say about you,” Snowshine hurried to reply. “He says you’re really charming and kind.”

“We’ll have to see if that’s the case, then, won’t we?” Mistface said, giving her an appraising look. She suddenly seemed a little shy. He wanted to vomit.

Snowshine shuffled her feet and pointed with her tail to a rare grassy spot just beyond a pair of houses. “I, um, usually eat over there, if you want to come with. It’s a lot warmer than anywhere else in the village.”

“That’d be nice.” Mistface picked up a random piece of prey (a black bird of some kind) and waited for her to do the same with her meal before walking with her to the grass. He was very grateful he didn’t have to say anything now that his mouth was occupied.

Once they were settled across from each other, Mistface started pulling some of the feathers off of his prey’s belly. “I do have to ask – you’re a seer, I'm guessin'. And a real good one, goin’ by your suffix. What are you doin’ here in Clast?”

“Oh, well…” Snowshine swallowed the mouthful of squirrel she had already taken. “Everywhere needs a seer. And now, with Redheart doing her… thing... the actual Clast cats need someone to sort of be in charge.” She gave a weak chuckle, seemingly to herself. “They’re not too happy with her bringing in a bunch of strangers that don’t want to fight.”

“Y’all have plenty of loners come in, though, don’t you?”

“Yes, definitely, but they’re at least here to test their strength, and then they leave.” Snowshine sighed. “Not that I like them barging in all the time, but the rest of Clast does. These new cats are just here because of Redheart’s new ideas. They turn down too many fights for Clast’s liking. And, well, Redheart acting so odd anyway…”

Mistface had the sneaking suspicion that Snowshine did not voice her thoughts too often to anyone around the settlement. Suddenly, now that someone was listening and apparently caring, she was off. Mistface simply nodded and let her go about her new duties and how Redheart was this and that, and on and on, while he ate his bird.

“…I mean, I haven’t even been able to go to the Lighthouse, I’ve been so busy. StarClan can speak to us anywhere, I know, but sleeping at the very bridge to heaven is the best way to talk directly.”

She paused for breath, and Mistface took the opportunity to comment, “And StarClan can’t reach you at all if you leave with Redheart, I’m guessin’.”

“She’d like that,” Snowshine said, with a sudden darkness. “She’s always been weird about StarClan. Never even thinks to just have me ask them what to do about whatever problems come up, even for big things.” She looked around and leaned in a little, Mistface copying her, and whispered, “I think it’s just because she has these nightmares now and then. She thinks that StarClan’s giving her the silent treatment, so she’s getting bad dreams instead of visits from our ancestors.”

 _Nightmares…_ Mistface hummed in thought, keeping his voice low. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but my brother has the same problem.”

“Really?” Snowshine’s eyes widened.

“He’s had nightmares all his life.” Mistface knew that Greyleaf didn’t consider this particular fact a secret, but pretending to share some intimate detail with Snowshine would only help her trust him more, so he continued with his conspiring tone. “StarClan’s never talked to him, either.”

Snowshine nodded like he had given her the answer to all of life’s questions. “That must be why they get along so well, then.”

“Mm.” Mistface drew his head back, but stayed quiet. “Any other seers ‘round here that could help?”

“Well, we have the one that came in.” Snowshine made a slightly distasteful face. “Starkfeather. But he’s… not exactly someone I would go out of my way to talk to about stuff like this. I don’t know that he’d be particularly helpful.”

Mistface winked. “Not on your level, at least, I take it.”

Snowshine smiled bashfully and Mistface silently cursed Darkpelt for making him do this. “Maybe not… an apprentice arrived one day that used to train as a seer, but she’s going to be a warrior instead, so I didn’t want to bother her and ask.”

Snowshine started again on her rambling, this time about the various new cats that had come in recently. Mistface listened solely because she could say something important.

She didn’t.

He did not like her.

\---

When night arrived, everyone settled in to sleep, except for Beetlefoot. He instead took the opportunity to pretend take a walk and enjoy the night sky. When he was far enough away from the eyes and ears of the Clast camp, he took off north, never once looking upward (it was a waste of time).

He was lucky enough to meet no one on his path – during the living years, everyone stayed in underground dens or moved to whatever trees or shelter they could find to escape the rain. There was no rain tonight, but clouds were coming again from the coast. Even this far away, Beetlefoot could gather that [Petrichor](https://calitraditionalism.tumblr.com/post/190007353133/petrichor-aspect-of-rainmore-petrichor) and [Derecho](https://calitraditionalism.tumblr.com/post/189499636283/derecho-aspect-of-lightningmore-a-perfect), the aspects of storms, would be arriving soon with a determination to soak the earth.

Which means he would leave footprints on his next trip, if he wasn’t careful.

Beetlefoot caught a scent of a familiar cat and slowed down to a loping canter. He lifted his head up again, keeping his chest puffed out as well as he could while staying at his current speed. He already knew how this was going to go for him. Drop off the information, be dismissed, leave without another word. Other Fleet members liked to swap conversations. Just not usually with him.

Never a change in that, until Nettlecloud and her strange sons.

He saw a cat rise from the grass and turn to face him, soon followed by four others. He slowed again, this time to his regular trot, and nodded sharply once he was within earshot. He stopped a few feet away from the leader, a grey molly with a heavily scared muzzle, and stood about as tall as he could. He was still much shorter than everyone else.

“Beetlefoot, yeah?” the molly said. “Clean path here?”

“Yes.” Beetlefoot dipped his head. “No thorns on the way, Shreddednose.”

He didn’t particularly like trading the common polite phrases with other members of the Fleet, but it was all he usually got in the way of conversation, so he took it. It was just good to be greeted at all by one of the more prolific patrollers in the Fleet.

A lanky black molly took several long steps forward. “What’ve you got for us?”

This, he thought, was Striderfoot. He had only met her once, and she had been similarly brisk. He could respect that. “Information about Redheart.”

He recited everything Darkpelt and Mistface had gathered and given him – leaving out, he noted with pride, absolutely nothing. Striderfoot narrowed her eyes, listening carefully, until he concluded. She looked at Shreddednose.

“You got everything?” Shreddednose said.

“Everything,” Striderfoot affirmed. “Want me to head off now?”

“You might as well.” Shreddednose tapped Striderfoot’s side with her tail. “Frostclaw can go with you, if you want. That predator and all.”

“What, and be slowed down by _her_ lumbering rump?” Striderfoot said, and grinned when a white molly came up and bopped her. “I’ll be fine. It’ll be light by the time I get there.”

“Then try to be safe for once,” Shreddednose said fondly.

“Of course.” Striderfoot turned, nodded at Beetlefoot, and said quiet goodbyes to the rest of her team before taking off at a sprint ( _I could outrun her,_ Beetlefoot thought snippily).

Shreddednose smiled, then returned to professionalism when she looked back at Beetlefoot. “Nothing else?”

Beetlefoot pretended he didn’t feel a little deflated. “Nothing else.”

“Chase the wind, then.” Shreddednose bowed her head.

“Only the warmest breezes.” Beetlefoot mirrored her gesture to her, then to the others, who looked indifferent to his existence. He whirled around and sprinted off, hastening to leave the situation before it turned awkward.

He was right, at least. He _could_ outrun her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For information on the aspects, visit https://calitraditionalism.tumblr.com/tagged/aspects.


End file.
